


It Happened Twice.

by trashpocket



Series: SSSS; A Series of Wonderful, Fortunate Events [7]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Celebrations, Crack, Feasts, Fluff, Love, M/M, No Beta, Other, Parties, Pictures, Reflection, Romance, Snow, We Die Like Men, Winter, Yule, a bit of talk, about sex, and adoration, family portraits, just pure fluff, just pure love, shennanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashpocket/pseuds/trashpocket
Summary: Emil said, with an almost sad but expectant smile, “Are you happy? To have me too?” As if the doubt had been in his heart for a while.Emil was an idiot.Or just pure fluff, falling in love twice, some reflection, and a bit of my usual crack at the end as a winter special.
Relationships: Lalli Hotakainen/Emil Västerström, Minor Mikkel Madsen/Sigrun Eide
Series: SSSS; A Series of Wonderful, Fortunate Events [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835107
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	It Happened Twice.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make some fluff and practice being a warm lil shit, and I made this for some reason. I was too chicken shit to create some smut, so I created small crack at the end instead. Onni and Sigrun are always fun to crack some jokes from, since I'm not really good at comedy. 
> 
> But anyways, I hope all of you enjoy this!!! This is SEVERELY _not betad _and I apologize for any mistakes. I just wanted to post this really quick, and leave it out there, now that New Years has gone by! Anyways, saying that, HAPPY NEW YEARS everybody!!!! <3 <3__

It was in the throes of dead winter, where the spirits sang their songs in the frigid cold, families huddled in by their yule altars, and after a feast had been laid out before them, that his heart fell out into the universe. There was something quite warm, quite _precious_ and delicate in this small gathering, by their corner of the world, unbothered and alone for once. Soon, they would return to their homelands, wear their standard issued uniforms and leathers, strap in their weapons on arms, thighs, or maybe even on bandoliers. They would rub more calluses into the pads of their fingers if they hadn’t already, and they would traverse across dangerous lands, and live once more in caution, separated by a country’s worth of distance between them. All of that would be soon, but right now, they were _here._ It was only them, in warm sweaters, bodies almost flopping like jello from the akvavit, and hearts full with the simple act of existence. 

It was just them, and somehow, the word (that he had dreaded and had long forgotten) fell into place, settled like dust on the bottom of a lake, to join and cement itself to the floor, till the word became crystal clear enough to read. _Family._

_They were family._

“Hey, come on, now! Stand still! This stupid thing is hard to handle!” Torbjorn reprimanded them, but Lalli didn’t know who he was talking to, because from what it looked like, all of them were squirming with a glee that was universal and that left them all boneless and uncoordinated. They’ve never been _fully_ together like this before, all in one place and safe and giddy that it was almost _stupid_ , but they were _now_ , and the feeling was so overwhelming, it practically seeped into the snow beneath his feet. Lalli could scoop it up into his hands, if he tried.

“I think that’s just you, dear. Let me,” Siv said with a small inflection, shaking her head at her husband as she reached over to help figure out the camera in his hands. Lalli let a small huff of air puff out, watching his breath as it rose into the atmosphere and faded off, leaving his heart throbbing in a way that felt both empty and full. He almost didn’t know how to handle it — this lulling ache. 

“What are you thinking about, hm?” Emil set his chin on Lalli’s left shoulder, as his arms snaked around to hold him loosely. Ignoring Onni’s exasperated look at their embrace ( _because even though the sight of them being affectionate was beautiful and almost strange, he’s already had enough of it for the past five days, and to be honest, he was getting sick of it. But Onni would learn to ignore it. Eventually. He had to, if he didn’t want to die early from stress_ ) Lalli turned around in his arms. He didn’t really say anything for a moment, and Emil only held him, knowing he only had to wait for Lalli to gather his thoughts, as snow fell heavy around them. 

“Thinking about yule,” he simply says, and doesn’t elaborate. The answer isn’t much, and is vague down to its bone, but it is an answer nonetheless, and Emil only blinks up at Lalli before his brows rise slowly in understanding. His smile is warmer than the fire of his dreams when he draws it upon his lips, nodding in agreement. Lalli wishes to trace it once more with his fingertips.

“Yule is amazing,” Emil agrees, before supplying: “I want more of this.” He refers to the others around them, chatting around and finding their place in the snow. Tuuri clinging on to Reynir, talking about the gifts they’ve received; Sigrun and Mikkel discussing with Onni about a mix of business in Norway, and something ridiculous Mikkel had said during their feast. Siv and Torbjorn wrangling the camera with as much caution as their little hellions, who were put to sleep hours ago. The snow falling around them was trying to find their place.

Quietly, Emil — the sappy idiot that he was — added, “I want more of _us_.” His voice was a whisper, almost like a desperate prayer that Lalli had faintly heard before. Its reverent longing made Lalli finally look down onto Emil. He took in the sight of the Swede, all golden skin and hair, a few faint scars and lines here and there, perpetuated with a blush drawn from the cold. Snow was flecked into the threads of his hair, and the stupid golden ribbon that he had taken out of a present had stuck onto his sweater from the residue of some cheap tape. He looked ridiculous, but he was Emil, and looking at the sight of his ridiculousness must’ve been too much, or perhaps, it was the added benefit of the words, mixed along with his smile, because Lalli’s heart felt like it was fit to burst. 

In the past months — or maybe it had been a year already? — he hadn’t been counting. They had been working endless miles away from each other, separated by the borders of their countries, as they worked in their respective fields and functioned on different schedules. They had been afraid that the distance might’ve opened a rift between them, to tear them apart from the mutual ground they had already established. That the delayed letters would cause weeks and months to go by unnoticed, afraid it would signal a change of heart and erase the affection that resided in there. Perhaps, would even make their relationship grow awkward with each other’s absence.

But they were too selfish and stubborn to allow natural things such as time and distance to separate their hearts. There was still the dreamscape that they shared, and though their schedules made it difficult to allow their minds to align, they stole as much words and kisses in the days and nights that allowed them to cross borders, to meet in a single space that was only for them. _Just for them_. Of course, they had jobs to do, and they couldn’t get distracted from their duties. The world was still full of peril, and though their situation was still far from bleak, it was also still far from the ideal they wanted either; far from prosperous lands, free of hungering husks of souls. 

But that was what made them more selfish. More greedy and desperate for times like this — like Yule, where their love could breathe and grow through the frost of winter, and through the silent threats of trolls. Where they could wring warmth out of the snow as much as they could — until nothing was left, and they would be torn apart once more, marching back home with the aftertaste of honey and terrible love. 

And Lalli couldn’t have imagined a life like this — with an idiot, who loved fire, and Yule, and him. He couldn’t remember when he made the conscious decision to walk down this path. Couldn’t remember when it started taking a turn towards the better, for both Onni and Tuuri as well, who had forgotten what it was like to have a large family for Yule. He couldn’t remember when his heart had started choosing Emil. 

Had started tentatively loving this idiot. 

But Lalli was equally as stupid for falling for him. 

“This, I want too,” Lalli answers shortly, allowing Emil to brush away his silver hair from the sharp cut of his cheeks. The gesture is small, but _so, so_ tender like Emil is, that Lalli can’t help but allow his heart to jump and skip, as if it could not believe that life had allowed this. They hadn’t been able to indulge in simple gestures for months, so he was allowed to bask in this. 

“Alright, I got it! ‘Kay, gather around! Hold perfectly still!” Torbjorn interrupted, and as everyone took their positions, falling seamlessly into place like the endless snow around them, Lalli only let Emil fuss around as he stood still. He wasn’t much for posing or taking pictures, and to be frank, he didn’t really care about how he was supposed to look. But it was Emil, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, settling his cheek against the side of Lalli’s head softly, not so tight that it caged Lalli in, but rather, just held him in place that made his heart pause. 

And not only that; it was Emil’s soft and considerate, “ _Thank the gods out there, you happened to me,_ ” that was whispered into his ear that made his heart so full, it could fall out of his chest and shatter into the universe. Lalli couldn’t help but look at Emil as Torbjorn took a click of the camera, and he couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away. To prevent the soft smile spreading on his lips, induced by the sun pressed to his side. Looking at him, there was no denying the ridiculousness of Emil. 

Sprinkled with snow, golden skin red, hair in soft bounces, sweater wrapped in a gaudy, golden ribbon. He looked stupid and unbelievable, _like a gift,_ and he was _Lalli’s_ love. He was so radiant, and fine, yet _unreal_ , that Lalli couldn’t believe he was there, basking in this moment; that years ago, he had been thinking of living and dying in the walls of Keuruu, nameless and forgotten, with nobody else by his side. He _almost_ couldn’t believe that the gods had allowed this; that the skies and the seas never objected, and life had allowed them to be. That right now — those old ambitions of living alone in Keuruu were alien and dead, _so distant_ , that he never really knew what he had been thinking about before anymore. What was he even _feeling_ before all of this? He couldn’t even call it _living._

When the pictures were over, and the others had burst out laughing and continued on their old conversations, turning around to retreat into the warmth of the house, Lalli turned back around to Emil, eyes wide and blinking. Lalli was about to say something, but Emil had laughed at him, untangled the gaudy ribbon that also happened to wrap around Lalli. Then, he had run a hand through Lalli’s hair, actions so meek and careful, Lalli could feel his heart tremble from how much Emil simply _breathed_ tenderness through his actions. It was so effortless to him, where it came difficult for Lalli (and despite that difficulty, Emil still _loved_ him). 

Then Emil said, with an almost sad but expectant smile, “Are you happy? To have me too?” As if the doubt had been in his heart for a while. 

And Emil was an idiot. Lalli’s love was a stupid moron, who asked useless questions that he himself already knew the answers to. Lalli rolled his eyes, and Emil took that action almost as a negative, ready to run and awkwardly apologize to Lalli. But not allowing him to run, Lalli cupped his face, making Emil meet his eyes head on. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions. You already know the answer,” Lalli told him, pressing a soft kiss onto Emil’s lips, before nuzzling his cold nose against his warm cheek with a small ire. Emil’s hands had paused on Lalli’s waist, only tightening once, before his forehead fell on Lalli’s shoulder. Lalli felt him huff out a laugh. 

Lalli grumbled, “Keep on laughing, and you won’t be amused when you’re alone tonight.” It was a weak threat, but a threat nonetheless, and it worked to sober Emil up, but only slightly. Pulling his head back and laughing faintly, Emil held Lalli’s face in his hands. Lalli loved the warmth there. 

“Sorry, Lalli, I just,” Emil brushed away his fringe. “I’m just pretty slow, huh? I’m sorry for doubting you. If you were sick of me, I think you would’ve shown that already and never bothered with this in the first place.” Emil was right, and Lalli huffed out his agreement with a fond roll of his eyes, though his heart warmed at the words. Then, once more, Emil added, “Though even if you _didn’t_ return my feelings, I think I’d be fine with that. My heart could take rejection, but — not having you here with me? I think I’d _die_ . So, I’m glad I _do_ have you.” 

Emil’s brand of dramatics always pulled out Lalli’s exasperation, but this — _this_ declaration made Lalli’s heart ache so terribly. Emil always readily declared his doubts, his faults, his guilt, his remorse, and his love. He was honest about his mistakes, and he was accommodating to others' quirks; and one thing Lalli loved about him was the fact that he never forced people to stay. It told Lalli that failure and loss had already been unkind to Emil before, and it told Lalli that despite this unkindness, Emil still gave love for free. 

Lalli could not grasp that concept. Time, life, love, and people never came for free. Everything had its laments and it took people, part by part. 

But Emil was stupid, and generous, and just kept on _giving and giving_ , despite the hopelessness. As if he knew nothing else _but_ to give himself.

Maybe that was what the world needed. 

Maybe that was how Lalli fell in love with Emil for the second time in his life. 

Burrowing into Emil’s hands, cupping his face, Lalli mumbled into Emil’s rough palm. “I wouldn’t be able to live, either. And, yes, you are slow. Very slow, but I do not hate that.” 

Lalli was never one to declare love in straight, direct sentiments, but staying in Emil’s hands, mumbling warmth into his skin, and holding him closer underneath the piling snow was a declaration of it enough, that transcended the realm of shared language. It was more than what Emil could ask for — from Lalli, and from the world, and the smile that bloomed on Emil’s face were embers of an evening fire, igniting safety and warmth in winter — presenting a refuge no other could hold. 

Lalli was deprived and greedy, and this fire was _all his_. 

He was pleased when Emil made a surprised squeak in the back of his throat, when Lalli pulled him in for an open-mouthed kiss. And though it was sudden, and their teeth had clicked awkwardly and painfully, and their mouths almost misaligned, the reality of it was welcome. Their clumsiness was every bit hilarious and tender. Lalli’s hand up Emil’s shirt, feeling its way up was _real_ , and where Emil declared love freely and in kind, Lalli was free to pull all of those out in the form wordless gasps and hisses too. 

When Emil pulled away for a breath, and their hips were pressed together, revealing _every_ secret they weren’t even trying to hide, it was to say, “So, you’re _not_ going to leave me alone for tonight, then?” The heat of his smirk and the darkness of his eyes couldn’t be ignored, and though it made Lalli shiver, all he could think of was: _the cheek of this Swede!_

Lalli snorted, before he allowed his hands to hold Emil’s hips. Lalli’s own mouth was trailing a path of kisses towards Emil’s ear, that melded into a bite on his earlobe. Then he said, “There are _better_ things to do than leaving you.” Lalli sealed this promise with sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh underneath Emil’s ear. His rewarding shudder and breathless hitch of his throat made Lalli smirk. He didn’t have to look down at Emil to know that the face he pressed into Lalli’s shoulder was flushed red and squeezed with desperation. 

Emil clinging to his sweater and panting against his shoulder made Lalli feel alive, down to the very tips of fingers. When the universe finally gave way, and they were ready to retreat from its hold, it was when Emil kissed the underside of his jaw in return and pulled him into the refuge of their home. This was accompanied by Emil’s soft, “Let’s head back inside. Want to enjoy you before we go back.” 

Lalli felt as if he was unbound from gravity, and he could rise to the sun. 

And even then, he thought there was nothing more fine than being there.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Onni pulled away from the refuge of the doorway, to flop down onto the couch with the entire bottle of what remained of Torbjorn’s akvavit, Sigrun had an inkling of what the poor old man had seen while he had been peering out at Emil and Lalli in the snow. So, of course, she had no pity in her heart left to stop herself from teasing the faint-hearted mage. She elbowed Mikkel sharply on his side, and when his eyes fell upon her, she snickered and pointed at Onni. 

“Tuuri, what’s that old phrase you used to curse with when you found those Old World books?” Onni asked despondently, before leaning back into the cushions. “Oh wait, nevermind. I remember it now. _Christ on a bike_ . I’ll _never_ be ready for this.” Spoken like a true old man.

Tuuri raised her brows at his cursing, turning away from Reynir who had been busy showing her new runes that she could care less about. “Why? What’s the matter, Onni? Is there something wrong?” 

Sigrun swung her legs over Mikkel’s lap, checking over the beautiful leather sheath of her blade as she hummed out loud. She said, “It’s just his old man instincts kicking in, fluffhead! He might have a heart attack soon if he sees Emil desecrating your cousin one more time.” 

Sigrun cackled at the ensuing groans of pain and cries of terror. Everyone had been traumatized with the sight of Emil and Lalli, one way or another, and having those images dredged up this time of the year was _not_ appreciated. 

Onni looked like he was debating the idea of his continued existence. Reynir was as red as his hair as he winced, while Tuuri spluttered and choked. Sigrun waved her knife around.

“Agh, stop acting like prudes, you little younglings! Sex is just a part of life! You know what happens when two people are just _too_ in love!” Sigrun reasoned, bumping her shoulders with Mikkel and wiggling her brows.

Tuuri made a face just as Reynir scratched the back of his head, looking away. Onni took a large swig from his bottle. 

“I’d appreciate it if that part of life was _not_ in my line of sight when _I’m not_ actively looking for it,” Onni said, tongue already loose from all the drinking. Reynir’s eyes widened at that, looking towards Onni with curiosity, while Tuuri violently coiled back. 

“ _Ew, Onni!_ ” She fake gagged, and Sigrun wheezed. 

Onni continued, “And _you_ , Tuuri, be careful with love, and men — _or_ women, or whoever they are, and don’t go too fast. I already talked to you about protection, and sex, and unlike _ahem_ , Lalli and his Swede, never do it outdoo—” 

“I know! I _know_ !” Tuuri screamed back, terrorized. “Now _shut up!_ I don’t want to hear it from you! I’m no longer a kid, Onni!” 

Onni sighed and leaned back in his seat, nursing the nearly empty bottle to his side. “It’s just hard to find people these days.” It was a quiet, despaired mutter, but Sigrun heard it nonetheless, and Reynir stared up at Onni from his spot on the floor, slowly growing redder than he had already been.

“Didn’t know your prude of a brother knew how to fuck,” Sigrun pointed out, and Tuuri looked at her as if she had bitten into moldy bread — not that Sigrun had an idea what moldy bread tasted like anyway. Onni was looking at her with offense from the jab at his sex-life, scandalized from the assumption. Sigrun found Reynir’s unabashed staring at Onni quite amusing though. 

“No one’s just as lewd as you are, Sigrun,” Mikkel spoke finally, shrugging as he continued to knit away on top of her legs. 

Sigrun poked at his chest. “ _You_ would know, wouldn’t you, you big oaf?” 

Mikkel never outright choked, but he closed his eyes and covered his face with one hand, sighing into his palm. It was Tuuri and Reynir who reacted violently in his place and gagged.

Through Sigrun’s snorts of laughter, and Onni’s pained sighs, they never noticed Emil and Lalli running up the stairs behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> any thoughts or comments??? I'd LOVE TO KNOW. and yes, in this small fic, Sigrun and Mikkel are a thing. Sue me. And Reynir is...well, if Onni offered, I say, he wouldn't be..... _opposed???? _Reynir is just very OPEN to the, ahem, possibility of a hook-up. Maybe. Why not. But ugh, poor baby Tuuri.__


End file.
